


His Fix

by motleystarshine



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adaar is Really Tall, Cullen Has Issues, Cullen Rutherford Smut, F/M, Gen, Heraht Adaar - Freeform, Kink Meme, POV Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motleystarshine/pseuds/motleystarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyrium withdrawal has given Cullen an intermittently insatiable libido. He handles it himself, as discreetly as possible, until the Inquisitor steps into his tower room at the wrong moment.</p><p>Originally posted on the DAKinkMeme</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As a child, the Templar Order had been something to look up to. Templars were defenders of the people, good men and women who believed in the reason they wore the armor. They were certainly worlds away from the life of a farmer’s son. Looking back on it, Cullen could admit he had been dazzled by the idea of being a Templar. He wasn’t surprised his mother had forbidden him to go the first time he asked, looking back on the childish wonder he’d been enraptured in when he asked. When he came up with a better reason, when he wanted to become a Templar because he wanted to help people, she’d agreed.

 

There was plenty a child couldn’t know about becoming a Templar. There was plenty a farmer’s son couldn’t imagine about what bearing arms and armor was really like, despite afternoon practice lessons with the Honnleath Templars.

 

Lyrium wasn’t anything he’d even heard of before he was accepted into training, but once he knew that Templars acquired their strength from it, Cullen was eager to partake and become a true Templar.

 

No one ever told recruits what happened when you’d ingested enough lyrium. No one ever spoke of retirement. Templar life was a life lived by the sword, and few lived long enough to retire. For those that did there were explanations and excuse for their irregular behavior. It was as easy to think that a lifetime of battling abominations and apostates and their demons would be enough to alter the mind.

 

After the events of Kinloch Hold, Cullen could understand how a lifetime of Templar service might addle the mind.

 

It was in his superior’s best interest that he continue thinking so, and it was not until Kirkwall after Meredith that Cullen came to understand what it was that lyrium did to Templars lucky enough to survive to seniority.

 

He wanted nothing of it.

 

For the most part, Cullen could ignore the symptoms of his withdrawal. For the months since Kirkwall he’d been waging a war with it, and winning, but there was little he could do about the more physical response he was having to the lyrium working its way out of his system.

 

Thankfully Skyhold was big enough that his tower room was left in peace unless he was needed for something. If he climbed up to the loft he almost had privacy, which was good. When it was at its worst, and Cullen had to take himself in hand and rub the worst of it away, and the messengers got to leave their reports on his desk while he took care of it, quietly, six feet above them.

 

This was one of those days. He could _feel_ the blood rushing downward as he signed off on the missive from Cassandra. His cock was stiffening in his breeches, and he dismissed the agent, just in time. Cullen sank into the chair behind his desk gratefully, pushing the heel of his palm against the growing bulge.

 

He could still make it up the ladder to his loft.

 

The door opened again, and Cullen started to snap when he recognized _the Inquisitor_.

 

Inquisitor Adaar swung the door closed behind her as she stepped inside, carrying some manner of rolled up plans in one large hand. She had an easy expression on her face, which wasn’t entirely unusual even in their working exchanges despite the bad start they had.

 

Months ago, in Haven, she had expressed her… appreciation for him. He had turned her down, but they had maintained an aloof sort of friendship at his own stammering request. She still cast looks at him that lingered from time to time, but nothing had come of it. She was a good person, and a good friend. Now he wished they hadn’t become friends at all, and that she was anywhere but in his room. He straightened behind his desk and greeted her cordially, despite the tension in his cock.

 

Adaar crossed to stand before his desk. All seven feet of her, and Cullen’s throat went dry, struck by just how much of her there was. He’d turned her _down_ , he reminded hims-

 

Correction, he reminded _his throbbing cock_ , the same traitorous body part that had grown stiffer as she approached his desk.

 

Cullen had a map spread out across his desk, and she leaned down to inspect it, giving Cullen quite a view of her ample breasts (albeit clothed as they were).

 

“How may I be of assistance, Inquisitor?” Cullen asked, careful to keep his voice as normal as he could.

 

“These maps-”

 

She rounded the table to be on the same side as him and leaned down and spread her own maps out on top of the one already across his desk. Cullen caught her scent - the curious odor of the Vitaar face paint she used and something sweeter - something floral. She kept on talking. He could only hope that whatever she’d come to discuss wasn’t important - unlikely, as what she had to discuss was _always_ important - or that he could ask someone else to handle it because he was staring at the soft curves before him and couldn’t bring himself to look at the maps she had brought.

 

The Inquisitor tipped her head to look at him. “Commander.”

 

“I-Inquisitor,” he replied.

 

“Usually I’m the one who gets teased for staring at you,” she said.

 

“Apologies,” Cullen said, “you’ve just… well you’ve caught me at a bad time.”

 

Her brows lifted, and she glanced at the door, an obvious reference to the messenger who had left as she was coming in. “What’s wrong?” she asked, fixing him with a serious expression.

 

Of course she thought it was something tactical. Cullen shook his head. “It’s ah… something of a more personal nature. Nothing to troubl-”

 

A strong hand lifted to his cheek, and Cullen was as shocked by it then as he had been in Haven. Her warm palm against his cheek sent a jolt through him, and almost before he knew what he was doing, he tugged her forward by the collar of her shirt and pressed his lips to hers.

 

For a stunned moment there was nothing.

 

She froze like an animal caught unawares.

 

It was enough to return him some of his usually iron-clad self-control, and he pulled away. He was almost horrified with himself as he found he’d got a fistful of her jacket and had tugged her halfway over him. That sort of-

 

She put both hands on the back of his chair and pushed it away from the table, exposing the (albeit clothed) state of his arousal.

 

He winced, putting his hands pointedly on the arms of his chair, and waited.

 

Inquisitor Adaar - no, _Heraht_. He would give her the respect of thinking of _her_ and not her title in this. Heraht looked at him. She stared, and he sucked a breath in and closed his eyes against the way the intensity of that gaze made his cock twitch longingly.

 

“Commander-”

 

“Heraht, please,” he cut her off. “I’m aware of the state I’m in, I don’t need it pointed out for me.”

 

She didn’t respond.

 

After a moment, he opened his eyes to look up at her. She was staring again, with a little smile on her lips that he hadn’t seen since they were flirting awkwardly on the training grounds.

 

“The question is - do you want to be _alone?”_ She lifted a hand to smooth the fabric of her jacket where he’d grabbed it so roughly, and his mouth went dry when she undid her collar. “Because you don’t have to be.”

 

It was too much to see and not act on. The chair fell over in the speed that Cullen rose from it, and he yanked her down to his height for another kiss.

 

To this kiss she reacted. She _participated_ , and it was better. Her full lips parted against his searching tongue and she bent down to give him access. He reached up and took her face in his hands, kissing her properly, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She moaned as their tongues met, hers stroking his eagerly.

 

“Take it off,” he gasped into their kissing, tugging at her collar.

 

She nodded, breathless and with a flush to her cheeks as he pulled back.

 

The doors needed locked, Cullen ordered himself. He forced himself over, trying his best not to limp as he went about the tedious process of securing his little tower, and as he turned from the last one he found her leaning against his desk with her jacket thrown over his fallen chair. Human women, and elves, he knew, wore breast bands that went around their ribs to present their breasts to an advantage, but… Heraht’s was wrapped around her more intricately and seemed to be holding hers down.

 

“Take it _off,”_ he repeated, voice dropped low with want. He began pulling at his furred mantle, shedding it as he crossed back to where she stood.

 

Heraht reached around behind her and undid the fabric, loosening it enough to duck her head through the top loop, and tossed it in the way of her jacket. There was color to her cheeks that dusted down to her collarbone, but she sat proudly with a straight back and a lifted chin, naked to the waist before him.

 

There was so much of her, it was magnificent.

 

And _her breasts_ -

 

Cullen stalked forward, and she leaned back on her hands on the surface of his desk. Her legs parted as he stepped up between them.

 

Her breasts weren’t overly large for her size, but all of her was larger than what he was used to, and her breasts were a wonderful part of that package. They were softer than he expected as he pressed his mouth to one. Her head tipped back as he took the swell of one into his mouth, and she shifted her left leg to curl around his knee, bringing their hips together roughly.

 

The heat of that contact made him curse, and he pulled his lips from her nipple. His cock throbbed with need, aching painfully where it was swollen within his breeches. He pressed his face into the valley between her breasts and tried to regain some composure.

 

 _Damn_. If she’d come before that messenger, he’d be- This was too much. He groaned in frustration, shaking his head against her.

 

Curiously gentle fingers made their way into his hair, and her voice came soothingly to him. “Whatever you need, Cullen.”

 

That got his attention. He looked up at her, only to find the flush intact on her cheeks and her silver-blue eyes darkened by desire.

 

He started to speak, but she interrupted again with, “Anything.”

 

“On your knees,” he rasped out.

 

The growling words startled him, but when she gave a short nod he backed away enough to let her up. There was a little shuffle of positions, solved by her hand guiding him around by the shoulder, and then he was leaned against the desk and she was kneeling before him, working his belt off and his trousers open.

 

His cock sprang free, and she gave that same little appreciative smile that he knew from Haven before she parted her lips for him and leaned forward to _swallow him down_.

 

There was no art needed. Cullen’s cock knew what it wanted, and he thrust into her mouth. She hummed as he bent and gripped her by the curving horns on her head, angling her mouth for his plundering.

 

It didn’t take long. He came in a rush, emptying into her mouth before he felt much more than the heat of it.

 

She stilled and made a sort of a purring noise that vibrated her tongue against him, and he groaned. He was still hard, of course, it would be hours before that changed. He guided her off him with a gentle tug on her horns.

 

Heraht sat back with a curious expression on her face, but said nothing.

 

Her mouth was full.

 

Cullen’s cock twitched at the knowledge of _just what_ was in her mouth. “Swallow it.”

 

Her lips curved in a smile and she swallowed, on command.

 

Now that he’d broken the seal of his arousal, now that he wasn’t as sensitive, the way she was following his orders was-

 

Her hands were still on his hips, and she tugged his pants down further, gazing at his cock. Cullen thought it should be awkward, but it wasn’t. Something had clicked into place, somewhere amid the grip he’d taken on her horns and the way she’d stripped down at his word. For this evening, at least, there was nothing left to be awkward about.

 

“You’re still hard.”

 

“Yes.”

 

She licked her lips as she said, “Should I-”

 

“No,” he replied, reaching out to touch her temple, right at the base of her horn. She closed her eyes and tilted her head into the touch. “I’ve something else in mind.”

 

*

 

 

There was no discussion of why she was submitting to this, or if it even was submission. If it _wasn’t_ submission then she was at least following his directions. When he swept an arm across the top of his desk, scattering everything onto the floor, including the maps she’d brought, she rose gracefully from her knees and undid her trousers without being asked.

 

Cullen hastily did away with his armor, a fact made more difficult by the persistent erection and the distraction of the silvery limbs sliding from the soft leather just beyond him.

 

“How do you want me?” she asked once she was bare, contemplating the surface of the desk.

 

“Seen one of those before?” he replied.

 

“Yes,” she said simply, glancing over at him. “It’ll be easier if I’m on my back.”

 

Sex was at the forefront of his brain, but Cullen had never been the best at separating his possessive urges from his libido, and his mind jumped straight from ‘it will be easier’ to ‘I’ve done this before and I know’. His mind clouded over, and no matter _how_ she knew it, he was going to give her a different memory of it.

 

“Bend over it,” he growled at her.

 

Her brows shot up, but she complied. She stepped around in front of it, bending to stretch her torso across the wood. She took the corners of his desk in her hands, glancing back at him. “Like this?”

 

“Just like that.” Cullen stepped up, nudging her knees apart, and put his hands on her hips. She angled her hips into his grip, trustingly, and that calmed him a bit. He pushed his hands up her back, feeling the scars and the muscle and the bones that were larger and longer than his. He leaned down to kiss the back of her neck, and his stiff prick found a spot against her.

 

“Are you wet?” he rumbled as it occurred to him.

 

“Nn?” Heraht grunted softly as he rolled his hips against her rump.

 

That wasn’t an answer, though. He shifted his hips back from hers enough to slid his right hand down between them. She was damp, here, and he liked it, but not enough. He stroked the length of her opening with two fingers, searching for-

 

Heraht jerked when he found what he was looking for, letting out a low, short moan. Cullen set his left elbow against her shoulder blade, pressing his forearm against her back to hold her down, and gripped her right shoulder. “I’ve got you,” Cullen said, kissing the back of her neck again as he worked his fingers against her pearl.

 

“But- you-” she grunted, gripping the corners of his desk more tightly.

 

“I need you wet,” Cullen said, scraping his teeth against the back of her neck. “Anything?” he asked, lips against her skin.

 

“Ah-yes,” she nodded. “Anything.”

 

He shifted the attention of his fingers, parting her to thrust them into her folds. Her next moan came longer as she stretched around him, and he grit his teeth against the answering twitch of his cock as he found her properly wet to the touch. The feel of her ready for him stiffened him back to a painful hardness, and he had to be _in_ the wet heat of her, **now.**

 

He pulled his fingers free and shifted, just enough so that he could line his cock up, and then with a sharp thrust of his hips he was into her.

 

Cullen lost his breath at the pleasure of being buried in her heat.

 

She punctuated it with an appreciative groan of, _“Yes,”_ that he hadn’t expected. It urged him on. He released his pinning grip on her back and straightened up. He looked down at where they were joined and groaned himself. The expanse of her spread beneath him - her strong, silver back stretched across the desk. Her plush rump was soft where his hips were pressed into her, and all that muscle was relaxed to accept him.

 

It was intoxicating.

 

He took a grip on her hips, and she kept hold of the corners of the table. He pulled out and thrust back in, his cock again driving the motion, seeking his pleasure in the embrace of the woman beneath him. She shifted in time with the pace he set, flexing her arms and pushing back into his thrusting.

 

She was hot, and wet, and everything he remembered a woman was like. He filled her with his cock again and again, and she writhed beneath him. Her head tossed to the side, and through the lust hazing his vision, he saw she was biting her lip, either to stifle a moan or to hold herself back.

 

 

“Let go,” Cullen growled at her.

 

Her half-lidded eye widened, and she glanced back at him, teeth still sunken into her full, lower lip.

 

 _“Heraht,”_ he barked, “ _let go.”_

 

As though compelled by his words, she shivered beneath him, and the warmth he was thrusting into tightened around him as pleasure washed over her. He grunted at the muscles tightening around him, and squeezed her hips in appreciation.

 

But _he_ _couldn’t stop._

 

He kept thrusting into her, needing the heat and the wetness of her, needing the moans that she couldn’t keep in as her release was drawn out. He was glad he’d locked the doors. No one deserved to see Heraht lost to him like this, and if they were interrupted he couldn’t be made responsible for his reaction.

 

The build for him was slow. It was the terrible reality of his lyrium-arousal, but he could feel it gathering as she unwound beneath him. Her moans came softer as her body relaxed, and his next thrust felt deeper.

 

The sensation of it was enough to start his climb towards release. Chasing it, he let out a growl and planted his hands on the desk, framing her hips instead of holding them. He couldn’t thrust as hard, but he wanted the speed to find his way. The wetness of her release made the pace easy, and he bent forward, watching the way her back shifted and arched as she received him.

 

Beneath him, her hands clenched on the desk as she wound right back up in tune with him. As she fell again into the pleasure of release, she _keened._ Cullen followed her with a grunt of approval, spilling himself into her roughly enough that his balls ached with it.

 

She stretched beneath him as the last of his release pumped into her and he slumped forward, still on his feet and with his still-hard cock buried deep in her.

 

Heraht shifted, resting her cheek on the desk, catching her breath. Once she had it, she started to say, “Comman-”

 

Her words died on her lips, and he found it was a growl of his own that had _silenced_ her. His thoughts were clear enough that he could not stand to hear her call his title. Not while they were naked and…

 

“Not that,” he demanded, punctuating his words with a rough jerk of his hips into her, “not _now.”_

 

She moved her lips as though she would speak, but no sound came out. Somewhere in him, a part of Cullen frowned on using that strange reserve of power to cut the words from her mouth, but mostly he wanted, with all the possessive fervor he’d been denying for years, to hear his name spill from a lover’s lips.

 

Beneath him she tightened her grip on the desk, nodding and rubbing her cheek against the wood.

 

Her acceptance calmed him.

 

Still, to use _a spell_ …

 

He stroked her back, unsure how to properly apologize for that spell - no matter how weak it was - and slid out of her. The motion made a wet noise, and he couldn’t help but shift back enough to look. She gave a little grunt that sounded disappointed. He reached forward to finger the dampness of their coupling, and her hips twitched.

 

The tables had turned, and now she was the oversensitive one.

 

Cullen relented, letting his hands work their way up to smooth over her ass. “Up the ladder,” he said, leaning down to kiss her back.

 

She nodded.

 

*

 

The little bed in the loft was functional, but nothing fancy. It didn’t need to be fancy, not for sleeping in and certainly not for this. Heraht tilted her head as she took in his sleeping area, and nodded as though she appreciated it. If her were of a clearer head, he might think something of that, but all the excess of thought he had beyond his cock was focused on how he had quieted her.

 

In penance for his actions, Cullen ordered himself to wait. He could not have cast the spell too forcefully, he hadn’t enough lyrium in him to make it stick. So instead of pushing her into the bed and seeing her silver body spread on his mattress, he lifted up and pulled her into a demanding kiss.

 

Heraht reciprocated, fitting her mouth to his and curling down around him.

 

It was cooler up here with the hasty patches in the roof, but that was pleasant after the warmth below. He guided her to the bed with his kisses, and as they found their way down he took the time to taste her. First her lips, then her mouth - a thorough investigation with his tongue, during which he rolled her to her back and plundered her mouth. Then he moved on to her neck, and down to her breasts. He suckled her like she might feed him. Her skin beneath his lips was soft and he stiffened further as he indulged in first one breast and then the other. Her hands came up to his head, fingers threading through his hair, clutching him to her. He kissed and suckled her while waiting for the compulsion of silence to wear off.

 

His hand found its way between her thighs, stroking gently. His thoughts drifted to how it would feel to be within her again, and an image of her struck him like a bolt from the blue.

 

When her head tipped back in a moan, he said against her throat, “I’ve seen the way you command from that saddle.”

 

Heraht’s hands slipped down, broad palms tracing a path down his back. “And-?”

 

“Ride me,” Cullen mouthed against her skin.

 

She groaned in response, nodding. He rolled them over so that she was over him, breasts pressed against his chest, his cock hard against their stomachs, with his fingers still within her. She nodded, gave a breathless grunt of agreement, and he slid his fingers from her.

 

She had to lean forward, to get her leg over him properly, which brought her breasts into his face. He took advantage of it, hooking his arms around her waist to trap her there for a moment while he nuzzled into them. She moaned a questioning noise, and he released her, squeezing her rump appreciatively.

 

Heraht sat up, pushing herself up to her knees, and Cullen adjusted himself so that his cock was angled for her. His eyes roved the length of her torso as she sank down onto him. Her back arched slightly, her torso hitching in pleasure as she lowered on her knees. The motion made her breasts bounce, tossing her nipples in a lovely little dance that drew his attention.

 

He lost his thoughts as the heat of her swallowed him. The angle was different for her, and she leaned forward, hands on his pillows as she lowered herself. Then her head tipped back again as she hilted him within her. Cullen’s gaze dropped and stuck to where they joined. He felt a throb of arousal at the sight of it, one that gripped him tighter as she shifted on him with a little gasp.

 

“There,” he said in the low, rumbling tone of his arousal. “Now you’re in the saddle.” He rocked his hips beneath her. He brought his hands up to her hips, giving her a bit of stability, and spread his knees to angle his cock into her more sharply. His lips quirked on one side in a little smile as she moaned at the shift. “But you’ve still got to find your seat.”

 

It was awkward, at first. The mechanics of it took some getting used to. She was a strong rider, but his hips and his cock were _nothing at all_ like being seated in a saddle. She raised herself up and thrust him back into her, slowly at first. From the gasping moans she let out as she moved, flexing her strong thighs, he was much better. Once they found a rhythm, he thrust up to meet her, letting his hands stroke her thighs as they moved. Cullen was torn between watching the way she swayed above him - distracted each time he looked up by the dance of her breasts swinging above him - or where there hips met and her heat took him in.

 

His aching cock was impaling her, and the wet clench of her was all that mattered. If he shifted his head up just a bit her nipples grazed his face. This was good, he decided, not caring where his eyes rested. Content beneath her, Cullen tipped his head back against the mattress, and the rocking of their bodies mussed his short hair from kempt waves into a riot of blond curls.

 

The pitch of Heraht’s soft moaning changed. She tensed her legs, shifting up onto the balls of her feet, and sat upright on him. Her mouth fell open as she worked herself more fervently on the hard length of him. Cullen brought his knees up behind her, making encouraging noises, and pressed his feet to the mattress. Strong hands gripped his knees and she leaned back, working onto him urgently as pleasure floated into reach. Her breath came in little gasps that found their way straight to his prick.

 

He could follow her into it, this time. It would be glorious. Cullen shifted his feet, thrusting up into her roughly, and they chased their release in each other’s motions.

 

She lost herself first, and her rhythm faltered. She sank back against his knees, her grip tightening to hold herself upright. He couldn’t still his hips yet, eager to follow her again.

 

“Commander,” she grunted softly.

 

There _it_ was again.

 

His title. His rank. It was as unrelenting as he was in living up to it, but it had no place here where there was nothing between them.

 

The release that had been building vanished, and he moaned in pity at the loss of it.

 

Heraht roused herself to look down to him and met his glare.

 

“My _name,”_ Cullen snapped.

 

He yanked her down by the arm, exerting his strength to reverse their positions without dislodging his cock from within her. Her knees came up against his sides and he angled himself up so that he could plant both hands bracketing her head.

 

 _“Say it,”_ he growled. He thrust his hips into hers, a sharp jolt against the sensitive parts of her after the wash of her last release.

 

“Cullen,” she gasped as he repeated the motion, thrusting roughly into her.

 

 _“Again!”_ he barked, punctuating his command with a hard thrust of his prick just where she wanted it most.

 

“CU-llen” she moaned back, gripping the sheets tightly as the relentless thrusting drove her right back to the edge.

 

That was how he kept her, spread on her back beneath him, knees held tight up against his sides as he rode out the rest of the desperate arousal. It went on for a desperate age, it felt, to him. Having lost his last ascent he had to begin again from nothing more than the raw stiffness of his erection in her heat. He was encouraged by the way her moans had all taken on his name, the way her feet hooked over his waist, and the flush of aroused exertion spreading from her cheeks down to her collar bones.

 

At last he climbed back into the height of his pleasure, lost himself to it, he filled her with his seed. Her response to this was another tumble into release. She gripped the sheets so tightly as she fell to pleasure that her fingers tore through the fabric. A distant, smug part of his brain took pleasure in that, and the way that she cried out his name as she did it. He bent low, kissing her chest in silent praise. Her hands had slackened on the sheets and she draped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers into his hair.

 

Still his arousal persisted.

 

Twice more, trapped beneath him, she was lost. Her grip on his hair tugged roughly and her nails dug into his shoulders deep enough that they drew blood. The second time he caught her wrists and held them to the bed roughly. She writhed beneath him as she lost herself and he followed her, _at last,_ losing himself completely in the white wash of pleasure so strong it was almost painful.

 

Finally spent, he slumped forward against her. Sleep rushed in, and as the blackness of it closed in around him, he was only vaguely aware of the warm softness of her beneath him.

 

*

 

Cullen’s sleep was dreamless for the first time in weeks, just the blissful blackness behind his closed eyelids. He was awoken by a shift of his body and the loss of warmth.

 

His thoughts were sleep-fogged as he opened his eyes, but shockingly clear.

 

It was late, and without the candles burning the only light in his loft was the moonlight that came through the narrow windows. During the day, the light that came in was like a signal fire, but at night it was often too dark to see much of anything. The moon must be out and the sky clear, he thought, because it was bright enough tonight that the loft was awash in silver-blue.

 

Heraht stumbled on shaky legs, and one hand reached up to catch her balance by a rafter.

 

Cullen looked on, surprised to see her loss of footing. He had _taken her_ so thoroughly that she was unsteady on her feet. At the same time he felt both a smug sort of pride of it and complete mortification. Both feelings were dampened by the pleasant ache that had settled in. He contemplated her with the lazy eyes of the sated. Naked in the moonlight, she truly looked silver. “Heraht?” he asked.

 

“Did I wake you?” she asked softly, clearly startled by his wakefulness. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

 

“Where are you-?” he asked.

 

She tipped her head toward the ladder. At some point during their romp, her hair had come loose from it’s customary knot, and the dark fall of it brushed her shoulders. It was, oddly, more intimate to see that than it was to see her naked after… all that.

 

“I thought it would be less… awkward if I went now,” she said.

 

“For whom?” he asked, though he knew the answer even as he asked. For him, for the Inquisition, for her reputation. It was not the first evening his tower had been locked, but someone must have noticed she was missing at the same time.

 

She tucked her chin as she looked down at him, a wistful little smile on her lips. “It was wonderful,” she said, eying the length of him still stretched across the ruined mattress in a way that would have made him self-conscious but for that little smirk she wore, “but I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

 

Cullen was shocked, and spoke before he thought. “You think _you_ took advantage of _me?”_

 

Heraht lifted a brow as she asked, “Didn’t I? You turned me down, if I recall.”

 

There was truth in that, and he knew he needed a response, but that response was lacking. Either it was the haze of his delightful exhaustion, or something… more personal that he was not ready to discover or admit.

 

When he said nothing, she went on, her eyes as keen as he had seen them when regarding a difficult situation at the war table. “The state of you… the arousal, what caused it?”

 

Cullen felt a frown tugging his lips as he admitted, “The withdrawal. It’s… a persistent side-effect.”

 

She winced, closing her eyes. “Then I should apologize.”

 

He disagreed, but the words he needed still would not come. Still, he could not let this continue as it was. He had been fortunate enough to have her… company, and it was not right that she should feel burdened by what had happened. That, at least, he could assure her of, even if he could not rattle free the words that needed to be said.

 

Cullen pushed up to his feet, fighting through the satisfied fatigue of well-spent muscles, and crossed to her. “Don’t,” he said, taking her by the elbow and tugging her back in the direction of the bed. “I could have said no and handled it like normal. It’s not better that way.”

 

She let him guide her back to bed, and they stretched back out onto the mattress beside one another. “That way?”

 

“I’d likely still be fisting myself desperately right now,” Cullen admitted, leaning against her.

 

They were silent a moment. Then she put an arm around him, lifting her hand to gently touch the scratches she’d made on his back.

 

“This was much better,” he assured her. It was a little awkward, laying against someone. It was nothing he’d made a practice of before, though he relished the warmth of her against him. The warmth of her was soothing, and his eyelids felt heavy.

 

“Does this happen often?” she asked, her tone cautious.

 

Cullen groaned, nodding against her chest. “More often than I care to admit.”

 

“Next time,” she said, shifting their positions until they fit together more easily, “find me.”

 

“Are you certain?” Cullen asked, working his arm around her waist.

 

“If you like.”

 

“Then… I will.”

 

Again, sleep took him, but this time it was with her silver arms that held him safe against the blackness.

 

There were no dreams that night.

*


	2. Chapter 2

Heraht was from Skyhold when _it_ happened next, but her absence was something of a blessing in many ways. Any normal day, Cullen didn’t have the luxury of time to debate with himself over her participation. He did not have time to think of the sex they’d had, but that was because he did not think of sex regularly. For years he had trained himself to be above and beyond it, and now…

 

He was the master of the Inquisition’s army, of _her_ army, and he would give nothing less than his all to that responsibility.

 

His only absence from it was when he had no other choice. His… symptoms allowed no thoughts of troops and supplies, and though he thought of lyrium, it was with a desperate passion rather than the cold hatred he felt for it when in his own right mind.

 

The desperate arousal that came over him forced him to think on things.

 

In the afterglow of the… romp with her, it had marveled Cullen that she had enjoyed the last time enough to consent again. It did so still. As the strength of his erection became undeniable, he locked his doors and took himself up the ladder as soon as he could, prepared for the tedium of arousal.

 

It had not felt so tedious the last time, true, but he had… quite a partner in it.

 

In the truest part of his mind, her consent - that promise of hers - made his lonely, furious palming of himself easier to bear. His thoughts conjured her in the drafty loft with him. His grip was her hand on him, the slickness of his palm was her lips and her wetness welcoming him in. He spent the night imagining her twining with him, spending before him and calling out soundlessly as he followed her into pleasure.

 

It was the silence that gave away the lie, but in his fervor for release that it was a lie did not matter.

 

And though he was still raw and jagged around the edges as the dawn light found him spent and splattered with his release on sheets still torn from her grip, he could at least admit that it was her sturdy frame he longed for, her voice he wished most to hear hoarsely calling out his name. He could say that what was tedious and a chore on his own was heat and pleasure with her.

 

And so began a dangerous longing within him.

 

*


	3. Chapter 3

The time after that he _woke_ to it. His fingers splayed across the tears she had made in his sheets - sheets he _could_ have replaced, but had not, and what that said he was not ready to acknowledge - and shifting to turn on his side caused his muscles to quiver faintly. It was very early in his arousal, and might just be the usual bodily response to the morning, but… No. The feeling of it was a dull tension, resistance against the easy drowsing of morning, but still it was there.

 

In an hour or so, he would be a man wasted to any task but slaking his lust.

 

Cullen knew Heraht was in Skyhold, and he sought her out without stopping for contemplation beforehand.

 

He found her on the battlements where she often took her tea looking out over either Skyhold’s courtyards or the valley of troops beyond it. She started her day looking over what he honed for her, and that was- It was-

 

His step faltered, and it was impossible to quiet his approach. Her blue eyes found him as he neared. “Good morning, Commander,” she greeted.

 

“G-good morning,” Cullen said, mindful of the sentry that was passing them.

 

His stammer caught her attention, and once the sentry had moved out of earshot she asked in a lower tone, “Is it, Cullen?”

 

“N-not as s-such,” he admitted. “I-”

 

She cut him off with a nod. It was morning, and Skyhold was still rousing itself, but the training grounds below were filling already.

 

The ones facing his tower room.

 

Heraht contemplated that, with the keen eyes of the Inquisitor, and turned away from his rooms entirely.

 

Cullen followed without question, surprised when she took him up to her rooms.

 

She pushed the door closed behind them and climbed the stairs ahead of him. Once she reached the room, she moved on to pull the balcony doors all closed. Cullen followed more slowly, attempting to keep control of himself.

 

The morning light cast colors into the room, spilled them across the floor. The suite was filled with books, both in the shelves and stacked and piled on the floor. There were map tracings he had never seen, some pinned to the walls with small daggers. He marveled at it all.

 

But as he turned when he reached the top of the stairs, his attention was taken by her broad four poster bed. A surge of arousal dug into him like boots into the side of a horse.

 

He reigned it in, but only just.

 

She finished with the last of the doors, and as she turned, painted in colors from the windows, he demanded, “Out of that clothing. _Now.”_

 

There was no hesitance, nothing coy about how her fingers undid her jacket and belt or the elegant little shrug it took to free herself from her breast band. Cullen watched, pleased at what was revealed, but not entirely.

 

“Take your hair down.”

 

He had wanted to see that for weeks. He had imagined the feel of it on his skin the last fevered night he locked himself away, and now… he would not deny himself.

 

She blinked at the command, but undid the knot and her gray-black hair fell down, kinked from being tied back, to her shoulders.

 

“On the bed.”

 

Heraht stepped over and seated herself on the end of her bed.

 

Cullen felt frozen in his steps. Something felt wrong about this, something-

 

“You’ve considerably more clothing on,” she said, her tone a gentle tease, “did you ask this just to see me naked again?”

 

There _she_ was. The Heraht his mind had conjured had been willing, but silent. His eager imagination seemed unable to conjure her voice either in words or in moaning. To hear her now was blissful affirmation that she was here with him, and he stiffened to know she was real.

 

That tease was nothing his horny mind had supplied, either.

 

“No,” Cullen grunted as she put her hands behind her and leaned back, parting her knees slowly. Then he followed her into nudity, hastily stripping out of his tunic and his armor and his breeches, kicking his boots away.

 

He advanced on her, and she leaned back further.

 

Cullen was hard, but since that last time spent on his own, he’d been unable to keep from thinking of her. Of the things he hadn’t gotten to do to her, what he had missed out in his lust-addled state. There ought to be just enough time before the worst of it hit, this time, to satisfy that urge.

 

He dropped to his knees between her thighs. As his mouth covered her, her whole body jerked up from where she was stretched back across the bed, and his name gasped from her lips.

 

The taste of her, the scent of her arousal as he tongued the length of her opening and was greeted by sweet dampness on his lips, threw him into his own arousal roughly. He took a firm grip on the base of his cock to stave off the distracting hardness, intent on tasting the whole of her release in his mouth before he took her.

 

When she came it was to his tongue thrusting into her as he wished to seat his cock. Her legs had fallen wide open in welcome, and one of her hands was tangled in his hair, guiding him. He let her, enjoying the tug on his hair and unable to keep from stroking himself to her moans.

 

 _“Cullen,”_ she groaned at last as she fell slack to the mattress.

 

“Move up,” he commanded as her fingers stroked his hair gently and she sighed in pleasure.

 

She shimmied back , dragging herself onto the bed. He followed, crawling up with her, and once they were far enough onto the mattress he slid forward into the dampness of her.

 

Heraht wrapped her legs around him, cradling him in strong silver thighs. Cullen suckled her breasts as he thrust into her. She sighed in pleasure, meeting his eager thrusts until she jerked in another release. Cullen could not yet follow, but he buried his cock into the clenching heat of her and made slow circles of his hips until she calmed enough for more.

 

When she settled, he began again. He pushed his torso more upright and adjusted her leg over his hip.

 

He had barely fallen into his rhythm before she was gasping his name again.

 

A part of him was frustrated by it, but another part was smug as he watched her writhe against him, cheeks flushed. There was enough of his rational mind left to realize that she had not been so easily undone the last time, not at the start, but not enough to make sense of that.

 

“Heraht,” he groaned against her chest, stilling the roll of his hips by will alone. “What-?”

 

“Too much,” she panted. Her hands found his shoulders and gripped them. “Let me- another way- while I-” she pushed at him gently.

 

Despite the protest of his arousal, he let her push. She untangled them, and he grit his teeth against the loss of her warmth. She got him onto his back, cock stiff and tall and wet with her, and then she crouched over him and took the entire messy length of him into her mouth.

 

His thoughts abandoned him as she took to her task. He could feel the warmth of her body against his legs, the heat of her mouth sucking down the hard length of him, and her hair against his thighs.

 

It felt just as good as he had imagined it.

 

He did not notice when he gripped her by the horns, but her moan trilled her tongue against him. She shifted, and her hand came up to cradle his balls.

 

That touch was a wonderful shock. A jolt went through him and he groaned his appreciation. She fondled them as she suckled, and her warm hand and her hot mouth brought him off in short order.

 

When his thoughts came back he found himself gazing at her as she continued to mouth the head of him. “Ngh,” Cullen grunted.

 

Heraht released him, pressing one last kiss before she leaned her cheek on his hip and kept his eye as she swallowed.

 

“You have wicked hands,” Cullen said, catching his breath.

 

“Do I?” she rumbled, sliding her fingers in a gentle grope of him. “I thought you’d be weary of hands.”

 

“My own, perhaps,” Cullen replied, urging her upwards by a tug on her horns. She came willingly, though she kept her palm cradling him, and he pulled her in for a filthy kiss.

 

She tasted of him, and he of her, and that…

 

 _Maker_ , _that._

 

“If you need to recover again, perhaps we’ll see how talented they are,” Cullen said.

 

“Mm,” she agreed, kissing him intently.

 

Cullen rolled them over - perhaps there were some good things to be said about a larger bed, afterall - and put a hand down between her thighs. She moaned into the kiss, gripping his shoulders tightly. They were at the wrong angle. Cullen pushed up on one arm to arrange them, and he caught sight of the headboard.

 

The broad, sturdy headboard.

 

His cock jerked eagerly.

 

“Up,” he said.

 

Cullen would never be able to take her against a wall. She was too tall for that. Their hips would never meet, or at least the logistics of figuring that out twisted his lust-fogged mind around the bend. Too hard, so hard it was impossible, but this… this he could do. He could have her with her back against the headboard, with a wide grip and her strong hands to support her. He could bury himself into the hottest part of her with her strong legs locked around his waist. Heraht groaned as he pushed her against it, gripped the wood tightly, and her head fell back as he thrust into her.

 

 _“Yes,”_ she gasped at every thrust into her, arching her breasts forward for his mouth.

 

He could not resist the enticement of her nipples dancing to the tempo of his thrusts. He parted his lips and took one between them, sucking it.

 

 _“Culllllenn,”_ she groaned, tightening her legs around his waist and her grip on the headboard wantonly.

 

Sensitive this morning, he thought to himself with a smirk, closing his teeth and dragging them down until her nipple was caught between them. Her head tossed to the side, the tip of her horn scratching against the wood, and he parted his lips and took her breast back in, laving his tongue around the swell of it as he pumped his cock into her with steady thrusts of his hips.

 

He looked up at her, and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed but her face was turned away. She was taking it, but she was tense. A stab of concern slowed his thrusts. Cullen released her breast. “Look at me.”

 

Heraht’s eyes opened, and the flush on her cheeks grew darker.

 

Cullen stilled his hips, buried within her. He brought his hands up her back, angling her on him until she gasped and pushed her head back against the headboard.

 

 _“Heraht,”_ he growled, “look at me.”

 

“I’ll spend,” she warned, biting her lower lip gently.

 

He pulled out and thrust back into her. She sucked in a breath through her nose, biting her lip harder to stifle a moan.

 

“I know,” he said. It was impossible not to, now that he was searching for it. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dark even as they looked away. Her thighs were tight around his hips and when he pulled away her legs flexed and she pushed down onto him. Her struggle was not against pain, but against pleasure. That was not a struggle he intended her to win. “Look at me,” he said again.

 

“Not yet,” she gritted out against her clenched lip.

 

 _“Right now_ ,” he insisted.

 

“Cull-”

 

 _“Heraht!”_ he barked at her.

 

Her eyes came down to his, and her gaze was soft. That look was _mesmerizing._ She gave a breathy sigh, one tense with whatever had softened her gaze like that, and he released himself to her pleasure and began thrusting again. Her breath caught as soon as he started moving. She tried to close her eyes, but he reached one hand up for her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me,” he said, “just me.”

 

She nodded, not breaking eye contact, and as he continued thrusting, she tightened around him. He moaned at the clench of her heat around his cock and filled his mouth with her breast, watching as the look in her eyes darkened as she fell apart around him.

 

He made himself join her, grunting at the effort of wringing it out before he had chased it properly. It was a pathetic, forced pleasure, and he found no release in it. There was no build up, it was too gentle, too-

 

“Let me down,” Heraht panted against his temple, leaned forward, “let me finish you.”

 

Her arms came down to his neck and he pulled from her, shivering with need. Her firm hand pushed until he was turned from her, and then she shifted until she was sitting behind him. She hooked an arm around his waist and tugged him back to her, fitting them together so that all of her was pressed against him, cradling him between her spread thighs. Her fingers stroked down his stomach, brushing against the trail of hair before she took a firm grip of his slick cock.

 

He leaned back, and they settled together against the pillows. Her fingers curled around the shaft of him, closing his stiff prick in the warmth of her fingers, and she whispered into his ear, “This is where I lay when I pleasure myself.”

 

That.

 

 _Oh, Maker_ , that. His hands found her thighs where they cradled him.

 

Her fingers tightened around the base of his cock, and her other hand came down to grip the shaft, stroking him slowly as she whispered, “Alone, naked.”

 

Cullen could almost see it, her spread across the bed as she had been earlier, flushed and naked. His balls tightened as she worked him. He rolled his hips with her stroking, his mind entranced, his body an eager participant. Her tongue brushed his ear slowly, deliberately. His cock throbbed in her grip as she said, “Fingers pushing in and twisting.”

 

“H-h-” he tried, but it fell to a moan as she ignored his attempt at speech, pressing her lips to his neck. Her thumb pressed into the slit of his cock and he groaned at the feel of her wrapped around him, the slick heat of her palm as her attention shifted. She began jerking his cock roughly, too quick for comfort but _just_ the right counterpoint to the filthy words she was breathing into his ear.

 

 _“Aching_ for release,” Heraht said in a low voice against his ear that went echoing through him. “My nipples sore, my breasts heavy.” He could feel them against his back as she breathed, soft and warm. Her hands were slick, and she reached down to grope his balls thoroughly, possessively.

 

He moved his grip to the sheets, worried his fingers would claw at her thighs until she whispered to him, “Touch yours.”

 

She could only mean-

 

His fingers were stroking his chest before he realized he’d moved his hands. She purred against his ear, “Good, very good.”

 

“Wh-”

 

“Shh,” she said softly, her voice a promising rumble.

 

“Need-”

 

Her lips pressed to the shell of his ear and she promised in a voice that dropped the floor out from under him and dropped him headlong into thrusting his hips desperately at her hand, “I’ve got you, but you’ll spill for me, so that the next time this-” she stroked him roughly, “fine cock of yours is-” her lips found his neck, nipped behind his ear, “buried in me-”

 

He closed his eyes, panting out, “Her-ah-”

 

“Hilted so I can feel you in my spine-” her teeth closed on his earlobe, and he’d never thought about it but the little jolt of pain that caused drew a moan out of him. “I need that… I want it, but first I want to give back the pleasure you’ve been giving me.”

 

She twisted her wrist sharply, tightening her fingers around the shaft of his cock and suddenly he was lost. He spilled himself, making a hot, sticky mess on his chest and the sheets.

 

Momentarily spent, he sagged back against her, cock still hard but body trembling from that release. Her grip eased but she kept sliding her curled fingers along it until he gave a soft grunt. Then she let go and settled damp hands on his hips, stroking them gently.

 

“You’ve a _filthy_ mouth,” he groaned.

 

“Sometimes,” she said softly, kissing the shell of his ear.

 

“I never knew.”

 

“What can I say? I was inspired,” she whispered, nose in his hair.

 

He turned his head into it, and all of her twined around him and her warm breath against his scalp felt so _right_ that all he could think was that her mouth was filthy but he never wanted his lips anywhere but pressed to hers. He was so, so warm wrapped up in her. Her tongue slid into his mouth, stroking his, and his cock twitched at how wet the slide of their tongues was against each other. How wet was she now, slick with pleasure?

 

“Again?” she breathed against his lips. He didn’t have time to answer before she re-sealed her lips to his, and her fingers closed around his cock again.

 

There was no teasing this time. Heraht’s hand began with the rough strokes, fisted tight around his stiff prick, and he growled into the kiss, claiming it as she worked him.

 

The ache of arousal caught him. He thrust his hips up, working his cock into her fist. Shortly she had him worked back up, fisting him intently while he plundered her mouth with his tongue. His balls tightened and he pulled from the kiss to moan out his pleasure. In the bright rush of pleasure she tugged him into, all he could think was that he was going to _mount_ her, bend her forward and stretch out along her back- mark her with the seed splattering him, and fuck her until neither of them could walk straight.

 

When the whiteness went away from his vision, he was boneless against her, and her teeth were set against his shoulder in a soft bite.

 

Heraht was breathing heavily beneath him, her arms tight around him as he recovered himself.

 

It seemed his pleasure drew a reaction from her.

 

Slowly, Cullen sat up, pulling away from her arms enough to turn and kiss her more easily, asking against her lips, “Did you mean any of that?”

 

“Every single word,” she promised in that low voice that sounded like sex all by itself.

 

How had he missed _that_ , he wondered. He would never fail to conjure her voice again, he thought, not with this to recall. Every time he was hard and in hand this would be what he thought of, her warmth around him and her strong hands guiding him unerringly in pleasure. He might well think in her voice and be hard for the rest of his days.

 

“Will you fill me?” she asked, voice still in that low rumble.

 

He caught her lips, pressing a kiss on her that stopped her breath and tightened her grip on his hips. He couldn’t help catching her lip in his teeth as they parted, and he tilted his head back to regard her - flushed cheeks, darkened eyes, parted lips - before he said, “On your knees.”

 

Heraht’s nod of reply was quick, and there was some shuffling from both of them to shift places. He moved away so that she could turn, kneeling. A gentle touch to her shoulder had her down on all fours. The compliance came with another little nod, and when he pushed her shoulders down further, she flattened and put her cheek to the pillow, angling her hips up.

 

Cullen nearly lost it at the sight of her like that, wet and spread for the taking, and that ferocious desire to mount her returned in a blaze to see their release marking the inside of her thighs. He had thought he was hard before, with her voice caught in his ears, but _this_ -

 

He sat back and nudged her knees apart to his satisfaction, until the view was even more enticing.

 

He could feel his balls tighten just _looking_ at her like this.

 

“You want to be filled with me?” he asked, voice gone low and rough and nothing he would recognize anywhere outside of this room.

 

She nodded, watching him with parted lips.

 

“Say it.”

 

“I feel empty without you,” she said, spreading her knees just a little farther.

 

“And what do you want?”

 

“I want you _hilted_ in me, Cullen.”

 

Cullen got to his knees behind her, fitting his hands on her hips, and angled them for penetration. He shifted closer until he could press into her folds with a slow thrust, and she was hot and wet as she stretched around him.

 

Heraht hissed in pleasure, but he kept it slow until he was buried to the hilt, just as she’d asked.

 

For a moment he just breathed, feeling his swollen length encased in her silken grip. His pulse roared in his ears, countered by a sweet-sounding moan from her.

Only once he was sure he could move without ending it did he pull his hips back. He thrust back in, rough the way she had worked her hand on him, but _s-l-o-w_ , only snapping the last little bit. He’d like to fuck her like this for hours, but-

 

Maker, _that._

 

She’d be a mess, strung out on pleasure and leaking their release with each thrust. He’d be gentle when she got sensitive, of course he-

 

The very thought of stilling set his whole body on edge. His muscles shivered, his grip tightened on her hips.

 

Lying to himself was worthless, especially in his own mind. He couldn’t stop now that he had her beneath him, he _wouldn’t_ stop even if he had hours of her like this. He could draw it out, go slow, but that little snap at the end, that possessive grunt as he speared her would not be quelled. Willing and spread beneath him, thighs painted in their release, she was his. The thought of that put a smile on his lips. He snapped into her _hard._

 

 _“Cull-en!”_ she moaned, eyes fallen shut. She nuzzled her cheek into the pillow.

 

His name from her parted lips in that low, sexy rumble of hers.

 

That was it.

 

He could not keep it slow, not with that encouragement. His grip on her hips tightened and he rutted into her. “Again,” he growled at her.

 

At first her answering moan was inarticulate, but when he growled out the command again the sound of her pleasure took on the pieces of his name, panted out as her fingers gripped the sheets.

 

His traitorous body wanted to finish, but he grit his teeth against it and set his will to holding it at bay. She was trembling beneath him, the long muscles spread out beneath him shivering with need, and he _would_ see her surrender to pleasure this last time before he followed.

 

Her body arched up when it came over her, hips pressing back wantonly as she tightened around him, and he kept at her. Her moan was his name and he could feel her release against his hips, against the warm curve of her rump fitting comfortably against him.

 

Only then did he release the savage grip on his own release. He gripped her hips as he planted himself into her, cock twitching as he emptied into her. Beneath him she pushed into it, back arching cat-like as she took in what he had to give her.

 

 _All_ he had to give her.

 

His balls ached with the seed pumped into her by his release. He hadn’t come that hard in years, and she gave a surprised little ‘oh’ as a shift of his grip on her hips - a slight change of angle - had their pleasure leaking from around his cock.

 

It was… it was…

 

The relief of that release was a wonderful ache, and he slumped down against her, fingers still gripping her hips. Her back was sweat-damp, but the scent of her exertion was soft - more the lavender of her sheets and the leather of her clothes than anything stronger - and he pressed his lips to her skin.

 

Heraht eased them down against the mattress, gasping for breath beneath him. Cullen loosened his grip on her hips, easing the rest of the way out of her.

 

His thoughts came back slowly, and the stiffness in his fingers told him she’d have bruises in the morning. “I-”

 

“Sleep,” she groaned. “I can’t… need to…”

 

He kissed her back again and made no effort to roll off of her. He worked tired arms around her middle, settled his lips against her shoulderblade, and kissed her back lazily. “Sleep,” he agreed.

 

Heraht whispered no sweet nothings to him, but she shifted until she was comfortable. Her cheek settled against the pillow, her hips pressed back to his. Cullen rested his cheek against her spine let his eyes drifted shut.

 

Still, they did not speak of her confession from Haven, still he did not make any mention of the distraction she was to his thoughts even when the lyrium rush faded and he was himself in his mind again.

 

The last thing he felt was her fingers curling around his.

 

It was evening when he mopped their release from him, found his clothes and made his way from her tower to his own, and the pleasant soreness of well-used muscles carried him through the dispatches he’d missed and the meal that he took in his room. He mastered sleep and stayed up the night, finishing the work he had missed while secreted away in her rooms.

 

*

 

The next day as Cullen departed his rooms, he came across Heraht on the battlements, looking down at the valley below with Blackwall at her side. She was leaned against the stone, arms crossed to pillow her chin, and the position of her reminded Cullen of-

 

He got a grip on himself, unwilling to think that in the light of day. Unwilling to think of her _that way_ with anyone else.

 

The Warden beside her was only half-watching the valley, his attention more intent on the woman at his side. He said something that Cullen could not catch over the wind that gusted across the battlements, and she laughed.

 

The pitch of that sound from her was breathy and reminded him of her cries the day before, and something dark twisted in his chest. He reminded himself - just himself this time and no errant body part - that he had turned her down in Haven and said nothing since. He remembered pointedly that they were friends, and that the way she gave herself to him, the way she submitted to his desire could be construed as an extreme form of friendship and nothing more. He was suffering, when she was with him, and she was alleviating it.

 

Cullen had done this to himself, just like any number of things he had come to regret from before.

 

He cursed his choice of doors and moved past them, gratified slightly when her eyes followed him to the stairs, but annoyed when Blackwall said something to draw her attention back to him.

 

Cullen took himself down into the valley she was watching to inspect the troops. He needed to be away from a Skyhold that held her while she was not with him.

 

Later, one of the scouts came down to find him. Heraht called them to the war room to make arrangements for what ought be done while she was away on some errand. She would leave in the morning, she said, and then set tasks for each of her trusted advisors. Cullen found his eyes trained on her lips as they moved, watching them as they shaped normal words instead of the cries of his name that echoed in the back of his mind as she gave out missions to first Leliana and then Josephine.

 

Heraht had saved his instructions for last.

 

Her eyes had not come to rest on him since he had finished outlining the layout of the improvements completed in the Exalted Plains. When she turned them on him again he could feel her gaze like the brush of her fingers against his neck.

 

Their eyes caught and held.

 

Cullen would not look away. He _could not_ look away because there, standing over the maps spread with the movements of the Inquisition’s forces and foes, she was **flushed.** If he had not seen her turn just that shade before, he might not have noticed, but where her neck went away from view into her collar her skin had turned the shade he had only seen whilst naked with her. He almost forgot his task because of it.

 

The sight of her like that did funny things to his chest, things that had nothing to do with lyrium.

 

Things that-

 

To one side, Cassandra pressed her lips together and cleared her throat pointedly.

 

Heraht broke their mingled gaze and she murmured out a surprisingly demure, “Commander,” as she lowered her eyes to the map spread out on the long table before them.

 

Cullen schooled his expression and cleared his throat. Some tell must have shown on his face because of the appraising look he saw on Leliana’s face across the table. “My apologies, Inquisitor,” he said quickly. “You were saying?”

 

“I would like to restore the docks on the Storm Coast,” Heraht replied. “They were there for a reason, maybe it’s something we can use.”

 

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he agreed, somehow keeping his composure. He had managed to tone down his staring at her, but did not linger once they were dismissed.

 

In either mercy or torture, Heraht left him be, sequestering herself in her tower in preparation for her impending journey from Skyhold. She always rode out at dawn. He knew from experience that her beast of a mount could outpace any other among Dennet’s stock at Skyhold, but she reined it in to a moderate gait to keep pace with her companions. There was a decent spot a day’s ride down the path to camp, and she preferred it to sleeping rough on the roadside.

 

Even before the… congress of the last few months, Cullen had risen to see her off. He liked to know who the Inquisitor had at her side, in case he had to send reinforcements after her. It was a private amusement of his own to see the grousing of them as they paced their departure with the sunrise.

 

From the horses that were brought out by the stable hands, this journey she had chosen Cassandra, Solas, and Varric.

 

Cullen did not cheer himself that Blackwall remained in the keep with them. Heraht would be safest with her most dedicated companions, and Cullen knew first hand the strength of affection as a motivator. He still had dark nights thinking of his devotion in Kinloch Hold, of his adoration from Kirkwall, and he would feel far better at ease to know that the man’s enamored heart bore shield and sword in her defense when the army Cullen kept for her could not do so.

 

Thinking those thoughts, Cullen withheld the worst of his opinion of the Warden. He would not scowl at the bearded man, he would not confront the bearded man, and he certainly would not request the information report on the bearded man that he knew Leliana had.

 

Cullen would, however, and _did_ go down into the courtyard to see the group of them off.

 

Apparently the hour did not suit Warden Blackwall, for he was not there.

 

Heraht was tying her supplies to the saddle of her massive mount, and Varric looked wearily at his sturdy little pony when Cullen met them at the bottom of the steps. Solas alone seemed undisturbed by the departure, but the strange apostate often seemed separate from worry.

 

Cullen did not expect Cassandra to nod him over to her mount. He was prepared for some last minute concern, some supply that needed to be sent on to the camps that would await them, not for her to request to meet with him- “When we return, of course. I am called to go with the Inquisitor, of course, but after. There is… a matter I would like to speak to you about.”

 

“Of course,” he replied. Cullen could not think of any good thing that Cassandra would wish to speak about, and so whatever she did wish to discuss did not bode well for him.

 

Cassandra said no more, however, and swung up into her saddle, walking her mount over to a ready position near the gate.

 

“Careful, Curly,” Varric said as he clambered into his own saddle, “wouldn’t want to get the plots crossed here.”

 

Before Cullen could reply, he was blocked from Varric by the tall shoulder of the Inquisitor’s mount. He looked up at Heraht, and his mouth went dry with _want_. It was sudden, surprising, and had nothing to do with lyrium. The dull ache of that had subsided, and here he was in the courtyard staring up at her seated tall and commandingly in the saddle and suddenly his pants were far too small for his liking.

 

“Any concerns before we depart, Commander?” she asked, patting the neck of the beast she was astride fondly.

 

“None but that you travel safely, Inquisitor,” Cullen replied.

 

She nodded at that, glancing down at him. Cullen thought he caught a smile on her lips before she tapped her heels into the side of her mount and thundered her way out of Skyhold, her companions riding out after her.

 

*


	4. Chapter 4

Cullen spent the weeks of the Inquisitor’s absence easily ignoring the impending conversation with Cassandra, but it was nowhere as easy to dispel thoughts of Heraht. When lyrium arousal came over him again, at a much greater interval than the previous episodes, he had no trouble conjuring the memory of Heraht’s body quivering beneath him, and the alluring drop of her voice as she described him filling her.  
  


It was only once he was spent that he recalled the look Blackwall had lavished on her.  
  


Blackwall’s attention to her was not new, either.   
  


Acknowledging that look, that fact shouldn’t mean anything, but it did. It meant thinking about the Warden with the Inquisitor in general. It meant thinking about them elsewhere, like in Haven. It meant thinking about the way that Blackwall always stood eager to join Heraht as she was suiting up to head out on a mission, and the way that he leaned forward when she spoke to him. It meant acknowledging that the Warden admired her without reservation, and she-  
  


She car-  
  


Cullen would not let himself think that thought, even.  
  


But he had to acknowledge that Heraht did not deny Blackwall’s attention.  
  


In the dwindling afterglow of release, even that much was enough to stab Cullen with jealousy.  
  


There seemed a terrible cost for his powerful imaginings of her, it seemed. Cullen was left alone with a dark, jealous feeling.  
  


Cullen tried to think of something else, anything else. Something other than Heraht, something that might bring him out of the dark mood that had descended on him, but there was nothing.  
  


It was her doing, this feeling, he thought miserably.   
  


And then that miserable thought turned to the whisper of her lips against his ear, and he could _hear_ her ask softly, _“Is it a bad day, Cullen?”_  
  


Like a tiny tear in a waterskin, that little thought gave way to other, brighter thoughts of her. The tangle of their fingers together as he had fallen asleep, the whisper of her ascent,  the way she knew better than he how to fit them together for sleep.   
  


The overwhelming feeling changed entirely.  
  


The words he couldn’t find that first time, the ones he hadn’t attempted the second seemed to plant themselves within in him. They had not grown or taken root, but they were beginning.  
  
  


*


	5. Chapter 5

 

The Inquisitor’s return was abrupt and unannounced, five weeks after she’d gone. The rest of her party looked tired, and the horses no better. Her advisers and remaining companions all went down to meet her, arrayed in an informal group.

 

Cullen was certainly not concerned by Blackwall heading down to meet her as she dismounted.

 

(Not much, anyway.)

 

But neither was Cullen _pleased_ when she stalked off into the hall without greeting much of anyone. Her quick step took her past Blackwall and the others and straight up the stairs. She didn’t cast as much as a glance in any direction.

 

Not even Cullen’s.

 

Not at all pleasing, that.

 

Cullen was similarly unconcerned when she did not show up to dinner, but only because he couldn’t be. He had another issue to handle, one that took him in the direction of the tavern instead of the dining hall.

 

Cassandra met him at the front of the tavern with a brusque, businesslike nod, and they went inside together. There were nods and waves from the officers and agents as they headed inside, and Cullen swore Krem gave the two of them a thorough look of some sort, though the lieutenant of the Chargers was too far away to properly make out what the look meant.

 

“Upstairs?” Cassandra asked, eying the sheer number of people at tables on the first floor.

 

“Sure,” Cullen replied. He could find no fuller reply. Cassandra had invited him, and now that he was reminded of it and faced with it, Cullen dreaded what this was about as much as he dreaded the worst attacks of his withdrawal.

 

“You seem to be doing well, Commander,” Cassandra said to him as they took their seats on the second floor. 

 

“I believe I am… coping,” Cullen replied. There was a twisting in his stomach that he attributed to his nervousness about what she might ask. He truly believed himself to be managing the worst of his withdrawal. He could not put to words whether Cassandra held the same opinion. Her asking him to speak privately could easily be the beginning of a very bad conversation. At least it was Cassandra passing judgment. Neither of them were the type to beat around the bush, thankfully, so if this was to be her final pronouncement that he was unfit for his post, he could expect a merciful end at least.

 

“The army is well managed,” Cassandra added, nodding in approval.

 

“I have been doing my best,” Cullen agreed, hoping against hope that his relief at her good opinion was not too obvious.

 

Cassandra nodded, waiting as the serving lass brought their plates before she went on. “I hope you will forgive me for noticing, but you did ask me to monitor your condition. In the War Room, before we left, you seemed…” Cassandra cleared her throat, pausing briefly before she went on. “There are… some of the more physical symptoms that might get… uncomfortable as time goes on,” Cassandra said in a quiet voice. She rested her hand on the table top, reaching past her plate, and looked at him. “I wanted you to know that, should you need assistance, I am available.”

 

“Physical… symptoms?” He stared at her for a moment, as though she had grown a second head.

 

She blushed high in her cheeks, just a touch of brightness in the firelight, and looked away.

 

Oh. _Those_ symptoms.

 

“Thank you, but… I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” He frowned into his drink. “You see-”

 

“It was just an offer, Commander,” Cassandra said quickly, her expression darkening as she understood his answer. “Let us not get awkward now that it’s been made.”

 

“Maker, Cassandra, that wasn’t my intention. I’m absolutely no good at this sort of talk.”

 

“Me neither,” Cassandra allowed. “Perhaps if we eat the awkwardness will fade.”

 

“At the very least let’s try,” Cullen agreed.

 

So they ate. The tavern food was as good as it might be in the hall, just with a different atmosphere. Once the two of them tucked into their meal, it did quell the stiff air between them, and in the regard the meal was almost pleasant.  Cassandra was a sort of a friend, after so much time. The twisting in Cullen’s gut did not subside, and the longer it lingered, the more he recognized it not as a telling sign of his anxiety but a prelude to just the sort of ‘physical symptoms’ that Cassandra had been polite enough to offer to help him quell. Still they were able to find other topics of conversation - the Inquisitor’s plans for the Keep, what outrageous lie Varric had told to the last set of visitors - and for once they both kept carefully away from heavier conversation about the war and the templars and Corypheus.

 

By the end of the meal, the twisting had changed. When the sensation became the first stirrings of his arousal came towards the end of their meal, Cullen’s hand twitched involuntarily in the middle of a hand gesture he was making. Cassandra’s eyes met his knowingly. They shared a look across the little table, and Cullen could almost see her offer hung between them.

 

She was an extraordinary woman, a powerful Seeker, and yet…

 

Cullen could not see Cassandra that way.

 

With the stirring in his groin, all he could think of was Heraht’s voice whispering in his ear, the line where her neck and forearms went from tanned to silver, the solid weight of her atop him, and-

 

He knew the woman he longed for.

 

Whatever comparison was running through his head must have showed on his face. Cassandra offered him a slightly awkward smile and rose from the table. Demurely she said, “I see you have found another to assist you,” and excused herself.

 

It left Cullen shocked, but he wisely kept his peace as Cassandra excused herself for the evening. Anything he said would be all over the tavern, and both Sera and The Iron Bull kept themselves there. Neither of them were particularly discrete, though at least they kept the serving girls’ spirits up.

 

Cullen departed the tavern as well, heading for the main hall. The castle had a few twists and turns to it, so at least he could be mistaken for going to the war room instead of climbing up to the Inquisitor’s tower. It was a bold move, but it was a safer move than attempting to search the entirety of Skyhold for her in the state he was about to be in.

 

*


	6. Chapter 6

The stairs up to her tower room had never felt so long as they did that evening. They seemed rickety, somehow, too with the familiar fluttering in Cullen’s muscles. He made a note to have them looked at - there was no cause for the Inquisitor to be unsafe on her way to her quarters - but knew it was only a distraction while his feet carried him up the necessary steps to reach her.

He knocked on the door, and there was no answer at first. She might not be in her quarters, of course, but the door itself wasn’t locked.

He knocked again, and a cross voice snapped, “Come in, then!”

It was the first he heard of Heraht’s voice in anything but her usual even tone, and he stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.

The stairs passed away behind his footsteps, but the room above was darkened, lit only by a low fire in the hearth. There were dark shapes around the room, unmoving, but he knew she was within. “Heraht?”

She was a figure in the darkness, sat down on the rug before the fire, lit with the golden touch of its light from beyond her. Around her were the piles of books and maps and missives that had lost their places on the walls or the desktop. In the darkness it was hard to tell, but they all looked more jumbled than during his last visit. She was seated before the fire with her legs crossed, jacket and shirt absent. The top half of her was covered only in the twist of her breastband. The sight of the bared skin of her back, so plainly visible to him, stiffened his cock in his trousers.

“Cullen?” she asked, sounding a little bewildered. In the dim light she turned from him and said in a rougher voice, “I thought _Cassandra_ had something to say to you.”

Heraht lifted a bottle of wine to her lips, tipped her head back, and took a long drink.

The two of them had shared drinks in the tavern, but he had never seen her drink quite like that before, lips wrapped around the bottle eagerly, throat stretched as she pulled down swallows of it. He wondered if that was the way she looked when she swallowed _him_ down similarly. It sent a rush of desire through him that settled in his gut, rousing his cock to the situation.

His feet carried him forward without his express consent.

An even look from her stopped him in his tracks, and Cullen felt his arousal wither at being confronted with it.

She pulled the bottle from her lips to grumble, “If there’s any Inquisition business, it can wait until tomorrow, _Commander.”_

Hearing his title from her after so long was a slap in the face, or a handful of snow down the back of his kit. Cullen’s thoughts derailed, and his withering arousal died in his confusion.

“What?” Cullen managed as she lowered the bottle. His thoughts took a minute to rebound from the need he felt to take in the frustrated, dejected tone of her voice. That didn’t fit, somehow. Something wasn’t quite right. “You think I’d come to your rooms at night with a… missive.”

Heraht turned her back on him, and gave a little shake of her head. Her attention went to the fire. “I don’t really know what _you’d do,”_ she said, shoulders hunching slightly. “Or what you prefer. Cassandra said she would offer, and she’s more to your… taste, I’m sure.”

_“Cassandra- what?”_ Cullen asked without thinking.

“Yes. Cassandra,” Heraht grunted, reaching again for her wine bottle. She kept her back turned to him, but gestured with it as she went on. “You. Your… issue? Apparently she’s got a fix in mind that is going to solve it for you.”  
  
Cullen stared. The confusion within him turned to purpose as he understood what this was. Her surly mood, her angry return… the way she was trying to drink away her bad mood.

A bad mood that had been put into her by the thought of him seeking out Cassandra for-

The arousal that had perished with Heraht’s disapproval came back in a rush of heat.

She was this upset _about him._ Maker, he _was_ bad at this. He was _worse_ at this than he had ever given himself discredit for if he had missed something like-

“Enjoy it,” Heraht said in that cutting tone she’d had since he’d come in. He must have stood silent and idle for too long. Heraht lifted the bottle in salute. She added, “She’s a good woman,” before putting the bottle to her lips and knocking it back again.

Cullen stepped forward, coming up behind Heraht. “Certainly _not Cassandra.”_

“What?” Heraht took the bottle from her lips to ask.

He moved up until his legs were against her back and settled his gloved hands on her shoulders. “You,” he said.

“I’m in no mood for teasing, _Commander,”_ Heraht growled.

There it was again, his _title_ hurled at him like a fist, but this time Cullen was ready for it.

“When have I ever teased you with words?” Cullen replied. When her only answer was a doubtful look over her shoulder, he widened his stance and pressed the growing hardness of his cock against her through their clothing.

_“You,”_ he said again.

Heraht was quiet.

“You told me to find you when-” he said softly, releasing her shoulders to reach up and trace the curve of her horns in his gloved hands. “Still?”

“Yes,” she replied, reaching her hands up to touch his. “But I-” she stopped, taking a breath. “Yes.”

“Good,” Cullen replied, tugging her back to him. He released her horns and leaned down, an awkward curl of his back as he draped himself over her shoulders, but worth it when she stiffened as he said low in her ear, “I want you.”

Heraht turned, quick as a cat, and Cullen found his mouth taken by hers. She tugged him down, and there was a weightless moment as she caught him in her arms and drew him across her lap - _easily,_ which was astounding even in the distraction of his arousal, as he was still in all his armor.

She followed him over, and Cullen wrapped his arms around her as she pressed him to the plush rug before the fire. He hated his armor between them for the warmth of her that he was missing, but when she pulled away from the kiss he found that there was a lovely display of the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest plate. “My armor,” he said, reaching up to drag her back down into another kiss.

Her hands got between them, then, tugging at his tunic and unbuckling straps, and Cullen reached up and pulled her breasts free of the fabric encasing them.

“Shift up,” he said, palming the ample swell of them and fingering her nipples intently.

Heraht brought her breasts up to his face, sliding her thigh between his.

The softness against his lips was extraordinary. He closed his eyes, sucking her breast as though she might feed him with it, and rocked his erection into her thigh for friction while she worked him out of his armor.

Her hands faltered a little as she was undressing him, and she sat back, pulling her breasts out of range. “I’ve had more than a little to drink,” she said, fixing him with a chiding look. “Either you take your own armor off, or you let me, but I can’t focus on getting rid of all the bloody layers on you with your mouth on me like that.”

Cullen chuckled at that, and held his hands up. “My apologies.”

Heraht shook her head at that, folding her arms and propping her bared breasts up with them. “Off with it then.”

He stripped the top half of himself dutifully under her watchful eye. His cock thrilled at the weight of her across his thighs and the little flush on her cheeks. “You’ll have to handle the rest,” he said as he tugged his undershirt off and settled his bare back against the rug.

She leaned down against him, soft breasts against his chest, and he sighed at the warmth of her skin. Her lips found his and she kissed him. Their lips had met and mingled before, but this- She tasted of the wine she had been drinking, but the press of her lips felt sweeter, softer than before. It might be the alcohol, of course. It was _probably_ the alcohol, but- Her hands moved down between them and his belt loosened and his breeches were opened by her helpful fingers.

Cullen’s cock was straining, now, throbbing with a pulse that threatened to turn into a vicious headache if it was not relieved. Heraht gripped the length of him and pulled it free of the fabric before she began to stroke him. Her hand was too dry, too tight, but _Maker_ there was something about how his knees had to spread to accommodate her and the way he was pinned down by her breasts as she worked him that made her grip just right.

He lost himself in the press of her lips and the warmth covering him and engulfing him. This was what he had missed the last time, this was what he’d been longing for.

Still, the wetness starting at the head of his cock wasn’t enough. Cullen pulled from the kiss. “It’s too dry,” he said, not at his most articulate. “Give me your hand.”

Heraht shifted up, looking down between them.

Cullen followed her gaze and his mouth went dry. “Your hand,” he demanded, feeling his balls tighten at the sight of her hand wrapped tightly around him between them.

She released him, settling down to trap his erection against her stomach while she brought her hand up for his mouth. He could smell himself on her skin, and his cock twitched in response to it. He kissed her palm first, then laved it with his tongue.

She pushed forward, rutting his stiff prick against the firm plane of her stomach. Cullen closed his eyes and drew her fingers into his mouth, suckling them as he had her breast, body wanting more but mind a willing captive to this warmth that had its hold on him.

“That tongue of yours,” she said softly as she drew her fingers free and worked her hand back between them to wrap him in a satisfyingly damp grip, “should almost be criminal.”

The praise was unexpected, but welcome.

Heraht pressed their lips together as she took up a tight grip and a languid rhythm with her strokes. Cullen groaned at the warmth of her touch as it slid easily along him. With each slide of her hand up his shaft she drew her thumb across the head of his cock, and it sent a thrum of pleasure through him that had his hips pressing forward for more.

“Shift up,” he said again as he thrust into her hand, “I’ll show you criminal.”

Heraht obliged him, keeping her fingers sliding along the hard length of his prick. She had to break the kiss, a loss Cullen felt keenly, and planted a strong arm on the rug by his head so that she could arrange herself better. Her breasts, her _lovely,_ full tits hung over him once more. He eagerly parted his lips to one.

Trapped beneath her, cock thrusting into her hand, Cullen moaned. The sound of it was muffled by the breast in his mouth, but she gave an encouraging grunt in answer.

His balls felt heavy, his cock too hard, and release far off, but all his senses were filled with her and that was more wonderful than any other pleasure he might find.

Then she whispered in a low voice, “You want me?”

Cullen’s cock twitched in her grip.

Oh, yes.

Somewhere between the jealous imaginings of the Warden at her side and dealing with dinner in the tavern, he’d forgotten the sound of her voice in his ear. He was not prepared to give up the occupation of his mouth for words to answer with, so he wrapped an arm around her and suckled her breast harder.

She groaned at that and her hand squeezed his cock as she stroked it. Cullen moaned against his mouthful, unable to keep from grazing her soft flesh with his teeth.

“How would you have me,” Heraht whispered, tucking her head down as she lowered her voice, “if you were inside me right now?”

Tightening his grip on her waist, Cullen tried to guide her hips closer to his, but she just chuckled, strong enough to resist him. She caged her fingers around his prick and stilled her strokes. “Show me,” she whispered.  
  
His hips rolled into her hand as it stilled, his stiff cock desperate for the motion to continue. Her hand moved with him, tightening and stroking in encouragement.

“Fuck me,” she whispered into the warmth between them.

Cullen needed no further encouragement at that, or at least his erection didn’t. His hips rolled and thrust forward into her hand, setting a hard pace into her grip. Heraht whispered encouragement to him, pleased little noises at first, and then more articulately she said, “Faster.”

He scrambled a moment for footing until he could comply with her request. She shifted to give him the room for it, and he sped his pace into her grip. His mouth fell away from her breast, and they brushed against his face as he chased his release.

“Harder,” she encouraged, and the word went straight through him, causing a jolt of pleasure.

Her grip tightened as he complied, and Cullen pounded his cock into her fist. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the warmth and the feeling of it all. Release was so much closer, and he closed in on it with each thrust into her hand.

“Come for me,” Heraht said.

His body obeyed. Cullen’s hips snapped into her grip one last time and he spilled himself between them, a rush of pleasure that left him gasping for breath as he slumped back onto the rug.

*

Cullen lay there, dazed by his release, and attempted to gather the parts of himself that had scattered around the room. Even though he’d just spent, his prick still felt heavy and thick. His need this evening would not be so easily mastered. Heraht sat up between his thighs, drawing her warmth away from him, and he looked up at her.

At some point in his urgency he had freed her breasts from the fabric of her breastband, but the sturdy restraint was still tangled around her ribcage and over her shoulders. His seed was splattered on her stomach, dripping down the path of her muscled abdomen enticingly. Cullen stared at the vision of her above him.

“You’re far too dressed,” he said, licking his lips as he looked at her. He gathered himself up and pushed upright until he could reach for her breeches. “I want your skin against me.”

His cock gave a twitch of agreement, both brains on board with this scheme of getting her naked.

Heraht nodded, shifting and shrugging her way out of her breast band. The front of her breeches were already loosened - Cullen didn’t recall undoing those, but wouldn’t put it past one of them - and he slid his hand into her smallclothes, as eager for her as she had been for him.

His questing fingers found her _drenched._

“It’s the alcohol,” she said before he asked, biting her lower lip and looking away almost bashfully.

“Is it?” Cullen asked, surprised to find her quite so ready for him. She still did not draw her gaze to him, but he had learned at least some of her tells by now. He stroked his fingers through her dampness, lowering his voice to ask, “Or is this for me?”

“Cullen,” Heraht moaned in answer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him into a needy kiss.

Lips parted, tongue stroking hers, Cullen kept his fingers busy in her folds, questing until he could work one into her. She pulled from the kiss to moan, clutching him to her.

“Let’s get this off,” Cullen groaned, cock stiffening at the sound of her, the feel of her warmth against his hand.

“Yours too,” she breathed, slow to draw away from his touch. She nodded towards his legs as she did so.

It was only then that Cullen realized that his breeches had only gotten down to his knees, far enough out of the way to be no obstacle to pleasure without disrobing him fully.

“Well,” he said, “I can’t argue with that.”

Without any other light but that from the fireplace, it was dark in the tower bedroom.

The two of them twisted and wriggled their way out of pants and smallclothes. The act of fully disrobing drawing both of them to their feet. Cullen couldn’t help but stare at the way the damp cloth of hers clung as she worked it off. She had to bend to rid herself of them, and Cullen stopped her from straightening with a hand on her back. He slid his hand down, enjoying the softness of her skin as he cupped her rump.

Heraht glanced back at him, one brow lifted coyly. “See something you like?”

Cullen slid his fingers into her, and her coyness dissolved into a low moan. He liked the sound of that. “I want you like this,” Cullen said, feeling his erection twitch in agreement.

“My knees won’t-” she groaned as his fingers stroked her, “won’t hold me if you-” her breath hitched tellingly.

“Yes,” he agreed, casting an eye around for something to hold her up against. The bed was all the way on the other side of the room, too far away. There was, however, one of the couches close enough. He slid his fingers free of her - causing a needy little whimper from Heraht - and nudged her hip in the direction of the couch.

They stumbled together in that direction - Cullen’s cock so hard again that it was aching, and she a little weak-kneed with the intensity of her answering arousal - until she caught the arm of the couch in both hands. He followed her forward, leaning against her back and fitting himself against her rump.

Heraht was taller than him, even leaned over the arm of the couch as she was. Her hips were just a bit higher than his. Bent as she was, his cock fit up between her thighs. She was drenched from his earlier attentions, and hot against the hard length of him even like this.

She pressed her knees together, tightening the heat of her skin around him, and Cullen thrust his cock further into her heat. Heraht’s breath hitched a little and her grip tightened on the arm of the couch.

It wasn’t anything he had thought to want until it was happening, but now that it was, he found that he liked it. He liked the warmth of her around him, just like that, and with how soaked she was it felt right.

“Do you like that?” Cullen asked, hips pulling back to thrust again between her thighs.

She grunted as his cock slid against her, leaning over the arm of the couch with a needy noise.

“You’re wet enough,” Cullen said, leaning against her back. The shift put her at just the right angle for this, and what was an awkward motion of his hips became a smooth thrust. His hands found her hips as he worked himself between them. “Does just _this_ do it for you?”

“No,” she grunted, but moaned as he slid his cock against her. Her head dropped forward and she pushed her hips back into his thrusting. “More,” she moaned.

“Do you want me inside you?” Cullen asked against her back, enjoying the friction around his cock as he moved against her.

“Yes,” she groaned out.

He worked a hand down between her clasped thighs, sliding fingers in to find her pearl. “Come for me first,” he growled, pressing his lips to her spine. _“Then_ I will.”

It was only a few more slides of his fingers and thrusts of his hips before she clenched beneath him, back arching as she found release. Her head tipped back and her whole body tensed in an exquisite line.

Cullen pressed his lips to her back as she sagged forward, bending further over the end of the couch. Her knees relaxed and the tight warmth cradling his stiff prick became more warm than tight. His fingers found more easy access to her, stroking gently.

“Cullen,” Heraht groaned as he spread the dampness of her, gently sliding his fingers across her pearl.

“So wet for me,” he said softly.

Her ear twitched and her head hung forward, but around his fingers she tensed. She mumbled something barely articulate and her grip on the arm of the couch slackened as she slumped beneath him. Was this her weak spot?

“Yes, Heraht?” he whispered against her back.

“I need you,” she purred as he stroked her, voice dropped low and needy.

His balls tightened and his cock jerked, straining and almost painfully hard at the rumble of her voice. “Do you?” he asked, letting his lips linger against her spine as he curled his fingers into her.

Her breath caught and she grunted out a rough, _“Yes.”_

Despite the stiffness of his cock, Cullen found it hard to stop touching her with her voice pleading like that. The feel of her hot and wet against his questing fingers was intoxicating.

“I want you _in me,”_ Heraht moaned, turning her head to look back at him with dark eyes.

As if in answer to some _command,_ Cullen parted her and shifted forward to fit the thick length of his prick into her before he was aware his hips were even moving.

Beneath him, Heraht shivered, sighing in pleasure as her legs parted so he could seat himself in her properly.

At some point Cullen had thought to be gentle, but the little grunt of pleasure she made as he got all the way into her was too much for the needy ache of arousal within him. His hands found the arm of the couch around her hips and each thrust into her was hard.

Her back arched, arms flexing to push herself upright just enough that she began to gasp loudly.

“Fa-ster,” she whimpered as he parted his lips and licked her back.

“No,” Cullen growled, parting his lips to her skin.

The sound of her pleasure was intoxicating. He pressed his lips to her back, eager to taste the sweet scent she wore and the salt of her skin, and had to groan when he could taste her on his lips again. He felt her tighten around him, just a little, as he marked her back with his lips. It felt good to feel her around him, so he peppered her back with kisses, punctuating each thrust of his hips with a gentle press of his lips.

It was his tongue that found the change in texture curling around her left side. It was an old wound, a scar that had been wide and deep but not very long. She squirmed as he kissed it, and the shift made her jerk against him. Cullen put a hand on her hip to hold her there, and sure enough she let out a gasp of pleasure.

“Here?” he asked, kissing the scar again, and clutched her hip so he could pound into her just as she liked it.

“Yes!” Heraht let out a shout of pleasure, back arching up as he worked into her. Her hand found and covered his on the arm of the couch, fingers threading together, and his name spilled from her lips.

Cullen felt dizzy with pleasure at it, and let out an answering moan. He was closer than he liked, balls drawn up tight in preparation for release, but he set his teeth to her shoulder. He would finish her, he _would._

Three strokes more. Four. _Five-!_

She was shivering beneath him — _Six!_ — and his name gave way to groaning sounds.

Seven. _Eight-!_

“Please!” she cried, the word desperate and loud enough to echo up into the rafters of the room.

To that, Cullen was only too happy to comply.

At his quickened thrusts, she broke, head tossing back, hair swinging around to hit his cheek as she tumbled into pleasure, and Cullen followed eagerly, greedily. He emptied himself into her, and they sank down in a weary tangle of limbs bent over the arm of the couch with his still-hard cock still fitted up inside her.

“Cullen,” she panted out softly, head hanging down low enough that she could turn to the side and rest her cheek on the seat.

“Spread your knees farther,” Cullen said, kissing her spine between her shoulder blades. “I need more.”

A little niggling part of his brain, one that warred both with the fury of his arousal and the warm feeling in his chest that fed it, worried that she would object. It was the same part of his brain that was still puzzling out what had not been said between them. The planted seeds were sprouted, but the words were still too tender to make out.

Thankfully _that_ part of his brain was wrong about her potential refusal. Heraht gave a wanton little sigh and stretched beneath him, shifting forward so that her hips fitted against the padded arm of the couch, and then she did just as he asked, inching her feet farther apart so that her knees were spread further.

Cullen leaned into her, teeth grazing her back as he slid further into the drenched warmth of her. He hadn’t quite caught his breath, but his hips were already rocking into her slowly.

“Yes, _please,”_ she purred out, wriggling her rump against him. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, a playful little smirk on her lips.

He laughed at that, all the worry that rational thought was trying to hurl at him dissipating in the face of her easy acceptance.

“I’ve pinned and mounted you,” Cullen said against her back, fighting mirth as she chuckled beneath him, “how is that funny?”

“Not funny,” Heraht corrected, eyelids fluttering as he rocked into her more firmly, _“lovely.”_

He had no argument to that statement. It was lovely, being this close to her, being buried in her heat as he was. He kissed her back, content with this slower pace, hungry for her body just like this beneath him. He let his body do the work, concentrating on kissing the scarred map of her back that was in reach. She kept purring out encouragement, and her hands came back and up to cover his. Their fingers threaded together, and Cullen ignored the tightening of his muscles in preparation for release in favor of the closeness with her, focusing on the taste of her skin instead of the heavy weight of his aching balls.

He rode her like that, _deliciously_ unhurriedly, climbing his way slowly back up the height towards his own release until her purring turned to breathy gasps, and only then did he whisper in a rough voice, “More?”

“Yes,” Heraht whimpered, squeezing his hands.

That was all the encouragement Cullen needed. He shifted his feet and straightened up enough to give himself leverage to rut into her good and proper.

She moaned at his thrusting, and he drank in the sight and sound of her pleasure, gratified at how freely she lost herself to it. His hips jerked forward in a fast pace, eagerly burying himself into her as he sought release. When she came her head jerked back, spilling her dark hair over her shoulders. He followed, plunging headfirst into pleasure, pumping her full of his seed.

“Oh _Cullen,”_ she moaned out, going boneless beneath him but for her grip on his hands.

Truly spent, Cullen had to scrape together enough of his thoughts to answer.

“Heraht?” he tried, hoping that whatever she meant to say or ask was simple. He wasn’t sure he had words to answer more coherently.

“Bed,” she managed, squeezing his hand.

“Mm,” Cullen replied, rubbing his cheek against her back.

  
*


	7. Chapter 7

In the hush of the night, with the fire dying out, they made their way across the wide room to her broad bed. They both were weak in the knees and were solid and bulky enough for it to be a problem that she was more sturdy but he more coordinated, so their progress was slow and careful. It was also full of hoarse chuckles.

Halfway from the couch, Heraht almost missed a step, and Cullen got an arm around her waist to correct her. Somehow it was strange enough for her to start _giggling_ softly - a sound he’d never heard from her before - and that set him right off as well. A headache loomed, one not helped by their laughter, but Cullen found his mind clearing as they struggled their way into her bed.

The aftermath seemed to be progressing faster than he was used to. It was a relief to have the lyrium haze depart him once more, but the surprise of its speedy departure was somewhat uncomfortable.

“Come here,” Heraht said in that wrecked voice he’d given her. Her strong arm slid around him, and she pulled him close.

Snuggling up to her - he could call it nothing else while sober as he was, a snuggle was a snuggle - he felt a warmth in his chest. They were plenty warm from their exertions, of course, and Heraht was an extra foot of ample woman, but this was something different. Something more.

In his clarity of thought, with his body pleasantly arranged by his lov-

Cullen turned his face into her bosom to hide the blush that came to his cheeks. It was too dark for her to see, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.

She didn’t question his move, just sank back into her pillows, pulling him on top of her as she leaned back, and ran her fingers through his hair.

The warmth in his chest surged at her touch, and Cullen’s concern soothed away. He wondered, idly, how much of his need that evening had been lyrium fueled and how much had been his desire for the woman wrapped about him. The headache settling in told the tale of his continuing struggle with the withdrawal, but the fog that normally lingered even after a sated attack of it was missing. It seemed impossible, almost, but this… this aspect of it seemed contained, now.

Cullen let his hands find her hips and waist and sides, framing her in the darkness with his hands while his eyes were inadequate for the task. She let him, stroking his back gently. When his hand made progress nearer to hers, she caught it and tangled their fingers together between them.

She had given him this clarity of mind, this brief moment of peaceful thought, and he was grateful for it.

At the same time the clarity came with a terrible price.

The part of his mind he had ignored - the part hurling rational thought at an amazing sexual encounter - came back like a nagging sibling and reminded him what had been said earlier. With the thick fog of need absent from his mind, the level-headed worrying part of himself came through loud and clear.

All of what they had said earlier came rushing back to him, playing over in his mind as he lay safely in her bed. More than just that night, he could recall just how he had turned her down, just how he had put her off.

With how she had since made him feel, how she had _just_ made him feel - their clothes strewn about the room told the tale of just how enthusiastically she had cared for him - he felt horrible.

“I think of you,” Cullen blurted out.

In the broad bed, Heraht was a warm stretch of curves beneath him. She remained still, pliant to the touch but unresponsive, fingers still laced through his.

Cullen could not deny her the right. She had done nothing wrong, or improper. Indeed her willingness was surprising and-

No, she could remain silent. This was his mess to fix.

“I know,” Cullen went on, “That’s not why I’m- I don’t mean when I’m- it’s not the lyrium, not just.”

He sucked in a breath when still she did not answer. _Maker,_ he was terrible at this. If she spoke to him this way he wouldn’t answer either. He soldiered on.

“I think of you,” Cullen admitted. Those were the easiest words for what he had to say. There was more, but going on was difficult. It was all the truth, but getting each word out of his lips was a struggle, and though his mind was clear his thoughts had no order to them. “All the time, even when I’m not… being near you makes my heart beat faster, and I know what I said in Haven, but if you still- if this could be more than just… sex, I… I would make certain that you would not regret the chance.”

Silence answered him.

Cullen frowned at that, squeezing her hand.

Still nothing.

Sitting up, just enough to catch sight of her face, Cullen was greeted with a serene and _sleeping_ countenance.

Of course.

What was it she had said when they were dragging their clothes off?

_“I’ve had more than a little to drink.”_

Cullen cursed his luck, halfway through an exclamation of _“Maferath’s-!”_ before he realized that this might not be such a bad thing. The words he had just said were honest, but they seemed rushed. The seeds had been planted, they had begun to grow, but all they were yet were feelings, blunt and honest as an Avaar maul but without the composure yet to be expressed properly. They meant all the things that needed to be said to fix what had been said so poorly, but they were not yet coherent. Cullen had only just gotten back the sort of clarity he needed to tend them into the right phrases. Heraht might have accepted them, accepted _him,_ but she would have done so with her usual helpful prompting when he lost his way with words.

She deserved better.

She deserved a partner she needn’t translate bumblings into sensical sentences for, at least where her own dear person was concerned.

He did not want to think what it said that he could not express himself about it more quickly. He’d always been shite at this in the past, especially regarding women he admired as he admired Heraht.

Gently, he laid back down, settling his cheek back against the pillow of her breasts as it had been at the start of that pathetically confused confession, and made a decision.

For Heraht, he was going to be the man she deserved him to be.

He would find the words to tell her honestly how he felt without her needing to prompt him through it. He would master this withdrawal so that she did not need reassuring that his desire was for _her,_ so that it could not be questioned as a side-effect or linked to a problem.

Cullen would make himself worthy of her.

No matter how long that took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, dear readers, is where this story ends. 
> 
> I enjoyed writing this one, possibly more than I should have. Along the way I was amusingly surprised by Cullen's apparent dom-ish-ness, and both of their abilities to dirty talk to one another in the bedroom. Admittedly, Cullen's was more in his head than out loud, but don't let the blushing blond fool you, he was participating in it~!
> 
> I wrote this story entirely from Cullen's perspective, because it seemed to fit the prompt best. I'm ending it here because I think that this is the last part that needs to be mono-perspective like this. This isn't the end of their story in this little AU scenario, but I do like to end things on a positive note, and I thought this was rather hopeful.
> 
> As always, dear readers, thank you for reading!


End file.
